


Morning Mist

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: This is a prequel to a crack fic written by jinglebellfic called Mindblown. If you haven't read it seek it out. I have taken the premise and run with it. I've not done crack before so I hope it works for you dear reader.Sherlock is an alien entity. Studying this biosphere is his latest project and it appears John Watson is his new specimen...for science.





	Morning Mist

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mindblown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157390) by [jinglebell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinglebell/pseuds/jinglebell). 



John Watson sat on the park bench. He knew his 'little bandits' would be waiting for him to show up. John held his hand out, holding in the palm a small mound of bird seed. One by one they came, sometimes two at once. Jostling each other to get first debs to stand on John's fingers and dig into the bounty of food. 

John watched quietly. His out stretched hand rock steady, he smiles at his 'little bandits' took their turns at breakfast. There is a peace that he feels when these tiny fluffs of feather trust him enough to come so close. This connection to the world is important to him. He'd lost himself a little after coming back from the war. Feeding the birds has become his way of relating to the real world once again.

Then wonder of wonders, a tiny humming bird hovers up, sorting the other birds out of his way. He takes his place of pride on John's thumb.

_John thought. Not wanting to scare away the little guy. John is amazed as the tiny bird wiggles his cellophane tongue at him. Scratched his little head then furled his tiny wings in a show of total acceptance of the fact that he'd not come for the seed, just the handy perch._

{Specimen ╦▄ has provided ten tettrites of data for future correlation. Interpreter S her-lock-k is dismantling and exiting current specimen. New specimen acquired. Uploading via optic aperture.} 

As John watches, the hummer and himself are slowly engulfed in a swirling blue mist. He blinks and blinks again as the mist concentrates around him coalescing around his eyes. The humming bird lifts from his finger, flying up and away. John feels his hand drop, seed falling to the ground. Something like a horrendous brain freeze happens. His facial structure squeezing against the strange painfulness that leaves him frozen in time and mind.

{Specimen ╦▄ ◊ acquired and provides 1400 cadens of partaken tissue with hectavs of viable sensor connections.}

John lifted his head. “Hello? Who's there?” John could swear that he'd heard someone whispering right into…well not his ears. How can you 'hear' someone without your ears?

{Specimen ╦▄ ◊ postulates that he is cognizance of my presence, understands my thoughts.}

“Hello? Who is talking about specimens?” John looks around, there is no one else in the area.

{What is your designation? Realize my query?}

“Yes, I understand you. Are you asking my name? Where are you? You sound so close. My name is John. John Watson.”

{John Watson} [S her-lock-k experiences interaction with the host and begins a subset data compendium. Thinking it better to not concern the specimen about his motivations] {I am S her-lock-k. Communicate on this pattern level, John Watson?} 

“Where are you?” John makes another 360 degree scan of his environment. There is no one in sight besides several ducks in the pond nearby and the birds fighting over the seed at his feet.

{Currently, we cohabit. Roomier than my prior primary.} 

“This isn’t good. I’m talking to a voice in my head.” John closes his eyes and rubs his temples. 

“Sherlock, can you prove that you exist? Show me that I’m not losing my mind.”

[Notation of elevated heart and respiratory rates. Hormones engaged. Specimen is experiencing anxiety.] {John Watson. Percept you are experiencing stress. Will modify your pleasure centers in brief increments.}

S her-lock-k stimulates the nucleus accumbens of the specimen brain. Which inspires a massive release of dopamine. This hormone leaves John and S her-lock-k awash in pleasurable sensations that overcome all normative behavior for quite some time. 

S her-lock-k has never been so comprehensively linked to a primary before in his long [thirty thousand yelgallins] life. Shocked, stunned and disturbed, he infiltrates all the sensory apparatus in his immediate vicinity. The conjunctions of his mist self are melding into John Watson. 

“Bloody hell, Sherlock. That was amazing, but please don’t do it again for a while. I don’t know if I could handle more than one of those in a 24 hour period.”

{Sherlock, you designate me Sherlock? John Watson, you are not like any primary that I have known before.} 

“What the hell are you, Sherlock? And, yeah, that’s what you said your name was. So you are sitting inside my brain right now, are you? That’s just perfect.”

John massages his temples and somehow this is quite satisfying for ‘Sherlock’ as well. It seems that their physical pleasure connection is on a level not before quantified.

Mistenist have never been capable of true connection to a specimen. The last layers of a Mistenist's being are an impenetrable barrier. It seems that this is not the case with this John Watson. 

John gently shakes his head and Sherlock sways with the motion. Finding it not unsatisfying. 

“So why are you inside my head? John still can’t believe he’s not thrown a mental screw.

{Initially, my undertaking is to gather data for science. I am a Misten. Collecting and correlating assemblages from all available life forms within this biosphere will complete one of my many projects.}

John is still trying to wrap his head around all this information when it hits him. “So I’m your next specimen. I did hear you say specimen?”

If Sherlock had eyes and could roll them, Sherlock would. Lowering his thought process to deep range so that he could think without alarming John Watson. _What to do?_ He thinks.

“I can still hear you.” John advises him. 

_{Hot, liquid excrement.}_ Sherlock thinks. 

John laughs.

Strangely, this activity is quite pleasant for Sherlock. {This sound is associated with mental images, with ‘feelings’.} Sherlock tries to duplicate the activity. Unfortunately he doesn’t have his own vocal cords or breath from lungs to make the cords vibrate. So he hi-jacks John’s. A rich baritone laugh slips out of John Watson.

“Bloody hell. Is that what you sound like?”

{Evidently.} Sherlock is amused at his ‘experiment’. {I would surmise that an absolute connection has occurred between us. This is an unprecedented event which leaves me quite mystify. I do believe I’ve just made a humorous statement!} Sherlock laughs again in a beautiful baritone which, of course, makes John giggle. It is so strange and unbelievable and pretty amazing. Sherlock is finding it harder and harder to discern where John ends and he begins. 

(-_-)

John is home at 221 B. Sherlock is observing. John makes himself a cuppa and sits in his favorite chair. Coping with the alien that’s sharing his brain. 

“So how long do you plan on hanging out?” John requests.

{John I denote that you do quite a lot of reading. Could you procure more reading material...for science?} 

“You can’t avoid the question here, Sherlock. I want to know when you are going to be vacating my brain?” 

{We have just begun data collection. Finding someone who knows that I exist is...unbelievable.}

“We? So we’re partners in crime now?” John smiles his crooked smile and Sherlock can feel the muscular contractions that produce the warm facial expression. 

Sherlock feels. His mist self is giddy with emotions that are being pumped through John directly into him.

“You have never known friendship? Closeness to another being?” John savors his tea letting the warmth slide down his throat; concentrating on the taste and aroma of the tea. In fact, he draws his attention to all of his senses. And he can swear that he is cognizance of the mistenist in his brain slowly rotating and oscillating at all the new sensations.

It’s not an uncomfortable perception. It might be something he could get used to even. _Bloody hell,_ John thinks. _I’ve been invaded and I seem to like it._

{My sentiments exactly.} Sherlock settles in as he has found his place in all the universes. 

**Author's Note:**

> ** For the sake of truthfulness, there are no hummingbirds in the wild in the UK. I made it up. Storyteller here. >:o)


End file.
